That was my life
by Illiteral
Summary: Ryuichi's POV. Ryuichi's memories of his teenage years and childhood, his rise and fall. Strongly suggested TohmaxRyuichi. Sept 22, 2005: WILL BE UPDATED VERY SOON.
1. This

Ten reviews: one chapter. Remember that and review. Clear? Yes. Good.

Edited: I dont know why I always tend to do this: publish something, then proof-read.

That was my life.

I don't really know how it all started: I was a kid, he was a kid, she was a kid. Regardless of how unfair it seems, life takes you places, and is quite unfair to you when you are experiencing poverty. I guess, that was the only thing the pushed me toward my dream: my poor, single mother, who barely lived off the little child support. I can remember it as it was yesterday: my mom, with her beautiful, raven hair down, in her worn and torn dress, staring out of the window into sweet darkness of the night. I did not understand her back then, but now, I do. Yes, for once I understand something. It took me getting drunk, throwing up all night, and sitting in the window frame, staring into that sweet, comforting darkness to understand.

As I said, we were really poor: not at the point where we had to dig the garbage cans, yet it was fairly close: you see, Salivation Army was just starting to grow it's roots. Norkio... was a sweet kid. She liked me, and she even comforted me when I had nowhere else to go. The only person I ever loved and treasured. Or, one of two people. Yet, that is the best way to phrase it: she was one of those two people who would never let go of me, no matter how hard I cry or fight; she would just hold me close and comfort: pat my back and whisper those sweet nothings while I sank into the darkness of yet another color-less dreams. I think that's why I love crayons that much: they have colors. Pink, red, orange, blue, purple... Many-many colors. Whenever I buy a fresh pack, I always throw away the gray one. Because it is the only kind of dreams I ever head. I wish I could just take the crayon pack with me... I tried sleeping with crayons: they, however, never appeared in my dreams. Those betraying little bastards.

I was a kid back then: a sophomore with no friends. Nobody liked me: I was the most unpopular kid in the school, and even the geeks and nerds had been treated better then I: I always had about ten more cuts or sore spots then the bottom of high school food chain.

It was then.. yes, I remember, then, we had a new student. She was blonde, pleasant, her smile always lit up the classroom, and her pretty turquoise eyes always seemed to have a little sadness in them, yet I failed to notice that flaw. Whenever she talked to her girlfriends, I was there, whenever she ate lunch, I was at the table behind her, whenever I had to go to the bathroom, I wanted to cry, because I would miss the precious moments of admiring her. She was pretty: really pretty, but at the average level. There were more beautiful females at our high school, her breast was as big as a ten-year old would have it, but she was the focus point of my attention. She was the goddess as I knew it. I never managed to talk to her though: with time, she noticed my attention, and her girlfriends gave her these wired looks. The giggled behind her, and the guys around her gave me these frightful looks: enough to scare me to piss my pants. But hell, I never stopped: I fallowed her home once: it was a little after four, not dark, ye she was alone. It was wired from the beginning; she never was alone, yet I never had any suspicion at the time.

Before I go on, I would like to point out that we all lived in the very poor block of Tokyo, and our school did not have enough teachers, let along, uniforms. It will help you understand as I go on.

…Knowing her name would have been nice. She wasn't in any of my classes, and I was afraid to get close enough to spy and find it out.

…Hell, how I blame my lack of socializing back then. If I talked to at least ONE person a day, I would have known…

She reached the corner, turned. After I waited a few seconds for her to get far enough so she doesn't get a feeling that I was stalking her, and turned as well.

She was gone, I was grabbed, and beaten the shit out of. The guys – the one that always hang around her – kicked me so hard, I was sore fore the rest of the fallowing week. They called me something senseless, something I never gave a reason to call me. Somewhat, I am thankful to them for that accident.

It was good that I was kicked off to school the next day anyway.

People laughed as I walked down the hallway with a black eyes and my lip stitched. The first period wasn't to start in the next ten minutes, yet, I had my books and was heading towards my first class, as I had the books knocked over, and I flew face-first into the wall.

It was the guys from yesterday: that girl's friends. They were among the most popular kids of the school. They laughed, and soon, the whole hallway was laughing. I wanted to disappear right there and then, instead, I rubbed my face, and started to pick the books up, as I got another blow in my ribs. I was about to stand up, yet, one of the boys picked me up by collar, and spit in my face. He was about to hit me in the face again, yet, his hand stopped inches away from it. He looked back; dropped me, and the whole word suddenly went silent: it took me moments to realize that the whole corridor just shut up.

There she was: behind him, holding his elbow and not letting him finish his punch. She looked at me and smiled with that tender smile of hers, nodded, and then turned her head to face the boy. She stared blankly at him for a second, then grabbed his shoulders and turned around completely. It only now occurred to me that she was about an inch taller then me; yet about a head lower then the guy. She looked at him, tenderly, just as she looked at me seconds ago, then she smiled. It was that beautiful smile of hers: gentle, beautiful, and it could literally freeze the sunlight. She traced her finger down his cheek, onto his cute nose – yes, the looks were the main propriety of his popularity – and, turned around to leave, without saying a word. I saw him relax a bit, then, all of the sudden, she turned around, and punched him right in that beautiful nose of his, forcing blood out, and sending him flying into the wall. The whole hallway gasped, and she keeled down beside him, he, covering his face with his hands. She covered her mouth, gently forcing away his hands away to see what she had done. "I'm sorry", she whispered in that funny voice of hers, feminine, yet, boyish. She took out a cloth tissue, whipped his nose up a little, then, fallowed by another gasp, hit him harder, again, in the same, apparently broken nose.

Silently, she took out another tissue and wiped her hand, dropping both fabrics on the beaten male, and turned around to leave for good.

All without leaving that sunlight-freezing smile.

The whole school went flying with rumors, as I, with several more stitches, sat in class. It was the last block before lunch, PE, and nobody seemed to dare to even think about playing a little "dodge-the-basketball" with me. Not that I was unhappy about the missed opportunity.

Anyway, the bell was due to ring in thirty minutes, dismissing the equal number of teenage, male killers out to do the unsuspecting world, yet the door, suddenly, flew open. The teacher wasn't even there. Then, it was her: the blonde beauty. She was fallowed by at least seven tough, HUGE guys. It surprised me: what the hell was she doing with grade ten guys during PE class. In guy's uniform. With a little bump in her pants.

Oh god.

I stared blindly at HIM, while he approached me, and all of those "little boys" behind him. Grinning. He stood several inches from me, staring me right in the eyes. Moments later, he grinned to, folding his arms and adopting a huge mock in his eyes.

Apparently, the whole PE class went silent, and I heard the door slam; somebody just ran out of the class to run the halls and yell on top of their lungs to come to the PE department, small gym.

I stared at her.. him. Now I understood why those guys from the day before called me that senseless thing: "gay".

I never knew SHE was a HE.

And there HE was, staring in my eyes, arms folded, grinning and mocking silently. I just stood there. Unable to find words, I stood there, dumbforded and silly.

He examined me, checking me out from head to toe. Not in that way checking out checking out, yet in a… summer camp penis comparing "checking out" checking out. As if I was any competition of some sort.

Meeting my eyes again, he moved himself closer to me, his nose centimeters away from mine. I could feel his warm breath; Apparently, I had this scared look in my eyes. He thought something, and touched my hot nose with his cold one. I think I started shaking, because he moved away immediately, freeing his hands and grasping them behind his back.

He closed his eyes, grin twisting into thaat warm smile, and he opened his eyes again. I swear, he was about to state something, when the speakers rang with the voice of the principal.

"TOHMA SEGUCHI, PLEASE COME TO THE HEAD OFFICE IMMEDIATELY. TOHMA SEGUCHI, HEAD OFFICE."

The voice was somewhat furious, yet, soft at the same time.

The boy in front of me rolled his eyes, loosing interest in me, turned around and stranded heading towards the exit.

"Tohma?" One of the big guys spoke, while the other six remained on their positions, yet watching the blonde boy walk away.

'Tohma', I thought. 'Tohma… Seguchi…? '

He stopped, halfway from his destination,

"Treat him to lunch", he said neutrally, "I'll be right there".

He was gone, the bell rang, and I was dragged away from the changing room as soon as I had my pants zipped down.

To my surprise, the big guys dragged me out of the school building to some wired café, ordered some food, shoved "my" order that was done for me, in my hands, and made me follow them to the large table, where six or so pretty girls waited. Tohma's girlfriends.

They forced me to sit down, and for the next ten or so minutes, everybody sat in awkward silence. I just stared at my meal, admitting that it was by far the best one I ever had – so much better then stinking school's cafeteria food.

I noticed that the place wasn't full; in fact, our group of fourteen was the only people there, but the lady behind the counter and some wired man, tracing down something in his notepad. I found the man quite interesting, yet, I quickly shifted my interest after the door slammed open.

A cheerful smile lit the room, as he, Tohma, entered it. He headed right to our table, looking at me directly, and not noticing anything else.

"Are you expelled?" one of the cute girls inquired, rising her brow slowly.

"Not just yet", he stated, not breaking our eye contact.

When the door slammed open, I could have sworn that he was furious, yet, at appeared that he never was: quite literally, that smile of his was his trademark of some sort.

He walked right to me, looking down at my sited corpse, and knelled down without braking the eye contact.

I shivered again, as he put his hand on my lap, stoking down my leg. My eyes went wide and watery: I had no crush on a GUY, regardless of whatever I thought of him as a girl. He, however…

…stood up and looked at everyone around the table, loosing all interest in me.

" SHE will be here soon. Tell her… I finally took her advice and banged my head against the wall until all of the bullshit flew out, yet, unfortunately, my brain fall out as well and I was unable to meet her and satisfy her curiosity".

He smiled, and, without a word, picked me up under my arms and dragged me out, leaving my nice meal behind.

We walked down the streets, which where remarkably clear compared to the street I lived on at the time, and our school ground. Really, back then, I never knew other places.

So we walked, in silence, which was quite comforting for a change. And then it hit me: I had to go back to school!

… So was he, but then, he hadn't showed any intention of doing so. I wanted to ask him, but, for some reason, I was scared, as if he will turn into a giant eagle and feed me to it's kids.

It was getting late, though: the class was to start in five minutes, yet, we still walked. We wore his smile, and, I noticed that people around me were dressed nicely: way better then I was.. Tohma, did not blend in, either: his outfit was too good for the people around us. So they stared, at me, especially: I wore my old, torn and dirty jeans and a shirt with short sleeves and little holes in it. Trying to ignore that, I managed to squeeze out a couple of words.

"Um.. m-my n-next class is.. is going to start in.. well.. five minutes… and.. I was wondering…" I was cut off by his reply.

"Well, that's quite good your next class, isn't it? " He turned around, targeting that… playful, this time, smile at me.

"Um.. don't you.. don't you think.. we should… go.. go back?.." I questioned, fearing the answer.

"No, I do not think we should go back. I don't think so at all". It was amazing how he talked: as if he was above all of the living things; so smart and so well-mannered.

I looked down at my feet for the lack of will to look back at the people who were looking at me. It was silent again, and I thought why I shouldn't just turn around and walk back. I never was late to a single class in my entire life. My mind was immediately read, yet, the sin of being late was replaced with a greater sin:..

"You haven't ever cut a class before, have you? What kind of a sophomore are you? Geek or nerd, which one?"

His smile faded, as he walked, staring right through all of the people in front of him. I winced at the sudden change of mood, looking down at my old sneakers, as they moved in order to make yet another painfully slow step. My eyes watered, the left one causing some pain from the little incident last night. I think that and the stitch, band-aids on my bare arms and the messy hair created even more reasons for those people to stare at me.

That moment made me hate silence for the rest of my life. I wanted to fill it in with something, to clear my mind of every painful thing on in… I started humming softly… just random notes.

He stopped in his tracks immediately. I walked a few steps and stopped also, turning around to see him. He just sized me with his beautiful eyes.

"You sing?" He asked.

I never sang before. Come to think of it, I never even tried.

"I.. I don't know…" I looked back at him, feeling hot in my cheeks.

He grinned. Immediately, he spun around on his heels and walked back, giving me a sign to follow. His gentle smile was back on his lips, glowing as it never did.


	2. All he could buy

**Sorry**, this hardly reaches 2000 words and has no actual point, but a little mall adventure. I just find that spot in particular a very good spot to end the chapter on. Honestly though, you may read the last sentence of the chapter with the success of reading the whole chapter.

Right, and thou, fucking bitches, got off easily by not reviewing at all. Next time: no reviews: no freaking update! :screams:

That was my life.

**T**he direction headed towards wass the mall, and I won't go into deep detail about or tip, but he dragged me into every expensive clothing store and bought ME something form each one. I refused everything, partially because I was ashamed, partially because of the clothes being so nice, partially because of worrying what insane amount of money he spent on me, partially because I had no clue where he got SO MUCH from, partially because he was a GUY I knew absolutely nothing of, and partially because the items were to damn exposing and sexy. Come on, shiny black lather pants and dark green tank-top aren't exactly… appropriate where I lived. People could take mo for a prostitute if I wore something like that. Although, not all of the things he bought for me were that bad.

After that, he dragged me into the music shop. We were loaded with bags, however, and he immediately run out, used the pay phone. Minutes later, a taxi came by. We stuffed all of the expansive junk into the cab, and I was about to sit down, when Tohma pulled me out, gave the driver an address, some cash, dragged me back to the mall.

His reckless and lack of care for the things that were currently under risk of getting stolen worried me, yet, noticing that, he smiled and spoke to me: "If something disappears, we can always buy new ones. And, what harm is it a little fun of suing the driver?"

I looked at him as if he was crazy. He just stroke my hair. He definitely did not like doing that.

Five minutes later, we were at hair-dresser's salon, he having his hair washed, and me having it cut by the style he picked out of some magazine on some girl with her breasts nearly falling out. We received wired looks from the women around us; we were, after all, in the forbidden lair of all females. I still don't understand why we couldn't go to some good barber shop, regardless that Tohma suggests that "Barber's shops always stink with sweaty men heaving their beards shaved off" every time.

Anyway, Tohma did not like the results at all, while I loved it. Thinking for several minutes, he talked to the girl who just gave me a pretty haircut (my hair merely reached my shoulders, was a little, torn at the ends, everything was loose and light), she nodded and tolled me to sit back.

I asked him that she was going to do to my nice hair, but he suggested something, the sound of which I didn't like at all.

"Black is not your color".

Then I thought that whatever he was going to do would have my mother stab me with a butcher knife. I thought of my poor mother then: she was probably out with some ugly men again. I felt sorry for her; I had new things, and she had nothing. I wanted to ask Tohma, I was too shy and afraid to ask for more.

Soon, the lady returned with some bottles and washed my hair again, applying thick coat of slimy, dark stuff on my hair. It then hit me, and I jumped out of the chair, causing several annoyed looks from near-by women.

"What are you going to do?!" I half-yelled, causing more annoyed women to look in my direction. Tohma looked at me, amazed and amused a little at the same time.

"But dying your hair, of course", he suggested, matter-of-factly.

I looked at him shocked, and he just gave me yet another adorable, blank smile.

"Sit down", he ordered, "I merely THINK I would know better what is best for you."

That was… rather scary. His demanding tone, so soft, yet so harsh, would wake the dead up if it tolled them to do so. I thought this kind of person would love to push people at the moving traffic, watching them run over and backed up on, which I soon discovered he DID enjoy doing.

I sat back, forcing my eyes shut for the rest of the procedure, fearing of the results. Which weren't so bad if I haven't known that my mom will use a hatchet instead of that butcher knife.

My hair, still nicely cut, but… dark green.

After a series of hysterical cries, he finally managed to convince me to leave it the way it was: he didn't do much convincing though, he just replied with a strict "no" to every protest I made.

After that little incident, he dragged me around several more stores, forced me to change into a wired outfit he bought: I don't quite remember what it was, but I do know that it was wired. Finally satisfied with the way I looked, he still managed to "compliment" my wounded face, and dragged me out to that music store, about which I completely forgot.

"So you sing", he said, checking out the equipment they had at the time. We passed some mikes, that now would be considered vary old and ugly, but at the time, were the coolest things ever. The store owner admired both of us; the fact that I still had black eyes and my lip stitched did not seem to lose his high evaluation of me. I blushed as he greeted "Jazzy pop and his chick", but Tohma only smiled. He did not mind being called a chick at all, which surprised me, yet, that did not take away my blush.

Tohma talked to the owner for several minutes, then, he (the owner) disappeared at the back of the store, and came back several minutes later with a big cardboard box. You know how now they have all of those pretty, colorful pictures all over the box to indicate it's contents? Well, back then, it was only a plain brown box with some writing on it, and a stamp "fragile". I wondered what was in it, but before I could ask, Tohma grabbed me by hand, and dragged me into piano department. Well, what I thought looked like pianos: it was rather a large synthesizer, connected to a mix board, connected to some wired square thingy, which all together plugged into an outlet. There were many keyboards like that; yet they all had this structure: piano, board, boxy.

Tohma carefully checked each out, called the cashier, pointed at one, and tolled him off. I wondered if they had keyboards in pink; I always liked pink.

Anyway, he paid for the boxes, left an address for them to be delivered to, and we left the store.

Don't you even dare to think that I am missing out those sweet conversations we had: we had none. "Lets get that", "Do you like it?" "What's your shoe size?" "Which one? Oh, lets get both" etcetera. All I squeezed out was "no, thanks", a blush, short answers and nods. I didn't know him, and was still shy, for crying out loud! He was, after all, an object of my attention for the several months, but that was when I though he was a girl. Now, I thought, he got the wrong idea.

Anyway, discovering that he dragged me around for more then four hours, I thought that it was better to get home, and tolled him so. He, however, got this wired, smile-less expression on his face, and though for a while.

"When do your parents get home?" He asked.

"I don't know." I said, ashamed of the fact.

"Why don't you call home and say that you will get home late?"

" I can't do that", I stated, suddenly finding my toes the most interesting thing in the world, " we don't have a phone."

"Oh", he said, looking at me pitifully. Yet, moments later, his face changed back into that disappointed grimace. "Don't you know the approximate time?"

"Well...", I looked up at him, and then back down at my toes, "My mom should get home by eight at earliest…" I lied, admitting to myself that the earliest I saw my mother get home was midnight. Those were rare occasions, however. Sometimes, she didn't come home at all. She'd just live a note on the fridge.

"Which gives us three hours." His face lit up. If I ever saw something pretty, it was his face when it was all happy like that.

"But…" I started, but I was interrupted yet again. His hand grabbed mine, and I was pulled into another café.

It seemed silly to eat so soon; I tolled you about our family's monetary problems, yet we did anyway.

Unlike with those guys at lunch, he actually let me order. I immediately looked at the price board, yet he turned me around so I couldn't see it and listed what they had. I wanted some fries and chicken, and Pepsi, and minutes later, my meal was at the table. Tohma picked some "donkey food", or salad, and a glass of water. Right at that moment, I noticed that he didn't like eating at this place at all. I wondered why; it was the best café in the whole mall. He, however, looked it at as it was a dumpster. He did enjoy his leafs and carrots, however.

Our table was in the corner, giving us some privacy, and I started to eat silently. He was just staring at me. I couldn't bare it any longer, I wanted to ask him what the bloody hell this was all about, yet I STILL could not bring myself to do so. He started the talk I wanted to start hours ago.

"Hey…" He said, still looking at me.

I looked up.

"Yes?..."

'Well, what's your name at least?" He inquired, and my stomach twisted. All of those little conversations we had never had the last hints of either of our names or anything. I felt stupid.

"Im.. Ryuichi. Ryuichi Sakuma." I finally stated.

"Hello Ryuichi", he smiled, "Tohma Seguchi, He extended his hand across the table, giving me no choice but to shake it.

It was amazing how easy the conversation went on: I rarely talked to people. I'm still surprised that I was able to talk at all. He turned out to be sixteen – two years older then I. I still haven't figured out where he got all of the money from, and why he was spending it all on me, yet, that seemed like a rude thing to ask.

I think I figured that he was some rich kid. He just didn't seem to be like a thief, or murderer, or drug dealer, or anything like that at all.

Yet, there was another thing I wondered about him: alright, he was pretty, but he was a guy. Girls could find him cute, yet up to the certain point; not hang around him all day. Those guys, usually around him weren't gay for sure, so I figured, they had no reason to hang around him either. By the end, I came up with a conclusion that made sense all ways: he was some rich kid (although I had no clue what the hell he was thinking: attending school such as ours), who was just as lonely as I was, Yet, the difference that drew the social line between us was: he was rich, and I was ass-poor. The next sentence I am going to say is a rude and mean in all ways applied, but it is as fair and truthful as I could ever put it. _Tohma Seguchi bought his friends._


End file.
